


Not Your Nature

by HotCocoaaa



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Diego and Klaus bonding, Don't ask me how or why It just happened, Gen, In my good home, Klaus is a nut and a pot stirr-er, Klaus is a very interesting character with many possibilities, No Apocalypse, No Incest, Peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, The woes of adoption, not ship, seriously it's, terrible, ya nasties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 06:13:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18005369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotCocoaaa/pseuds/HotCocoaaa
Summary: “Does it really matter? We all ended up with El Diablo anyway. But you’re not really one to start mean spirited fun, Klaus. You may be a nutter, but you aren’t mean. That’s more of Five’s thing.”Diego paused, tilted his head to the side, and with silent thought to Ben that‘Hey, look, I’m trying. I’m trying real hard to be a good brother right now,’asked his other, living brother what was wrong.As much as his family was so,sofucked up…They were more than worth spending time to repair.





	Not Your Nature

**Author's Note:**

> I really like all their characters, but Klaus' is admittedly one of the most interesting to me personally. So I wonder how it ended up being told from Diego's point of view?
> 
> Anyway This is technically au since The apocalypse Didn't happen, since they all stood up to Luther like they _should have_ and let Vanya out but anyway no tea here just good old fluff.

  
“You remember how dad always said there were forty three of us? Made a big shtick of it to the general public?”   
  
“Klaus, what are you talking about?”   
  
“Y’know- how there were forty three other kids born unnaturally?”   
  
“Other ki- ohhh. Yeah. That. What about it?”   
  
“Well,” Klaus started, and slid down on his stomach to support his head via his arms. The table he was lying on top of creaked warningly. “I just had a thought,” he mused, rolling the airy words in his mouth like he _just knew_ they would rile somebody up, his voice far off and willowy as it often got when he was bumbling about in the clouds, though, now more commonly being associated by his numerous siblings for when the man was far off thinking- either that, or about to stir up the pot. Diego wasn’t sure which, this time, it would be. Though, all considering, (Klaus, lying on the table top, clad in nothing but terribly ripped jean booty shorts and a crop top, a mischievous glint in his eye) it was probably to stir the pot.   
  
“He only got seven of us.”   
  
Diego raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. He stopped walking, lowered the cloth in his right hand from his left, holding a bloodied knife, and turned his head to look at his brother.   
  
“And?”   
  
Klaus’s face split into a Cheshire grin.   
  
“Out of forty three completely, shocking, abrupt pregnancies, he only got his wrinkled old hands on the seven of us,” the man started, batting his mascara coated eyelashes up at Diego with every intended annoyance, kicking his feet back and forth.   
  
“How terribly unfortunate were we, to either have terrible mothers or really unlucky ones?”   
  
Klaus grinned again, and Diego paused, his brows furrowing and lips turning down into a frown, just bordering a light scowl as he made the choice to walk towards the table his brother rested on.   
  
“Does it really matter? We all ended up with El Diablo anyway,” he answered, shrugging while he set his still bloodied knife on the tabletop and leaning forward, almost enough to crowd Klaus’ space. It was odd, he thought, that Klaus would try to rile him up like this. Almost like...it didn’t fit.   
  
“But you’re not really one to start mean spirited fun, Klaus. You may be a nutter, but you aren’t mean. That’s more of Five’s thing.”   
  
Klaus stopped his fidgeting, and Diego pursed his lips, fighting back an upturned corner of his mouth.   
  
_‘Aha, the missing piece is, in fact, a missing piece.'_  
  
Diego lent his weight to his arms, half slouching on the table top and leaning down enough to look Klaus in the eyes.   
  
He watched his brothers own eyes widen, ever so slightly, at the unexpected interest.   
  
“So what’s this really about?”   
  
Klaus laughed, his high pitched, breathy sort of laugh, the one that twittered and suggested that maybe, perhaps, the whole thing wasn’t all that funny- well, to anyone other than Klaus himself, that is. Though, maybe not.   
  
“What makes you say that?” The man in question questioned, his words tripping and stumbling over breathy trailing giggles. Diego raised his other eyebrow.   
  
“Because you aren’t direct, Klaus. When you...eh I dunno, have,” Diego dropped his head -full of words yet none right to describe- and waved his hand about in the air a second. “ _Something_ goin’ on, you drop little snippets of comments. Puzzle pieces, if you will.”

Klaus quieted.

Diego continued.

“It isn’t like you to rile us, or well, _anyone_ , up with something mean; sure you’ll gladly get _somebody’s_ goat, but you aren’t mean about it. You’ve gotta be after something, man. So,”

Diego paused, tilted his head to the side, and with silent thought to Ben that _‘Hey, look, I’m trying. I’m trying real hard to be a good brother right now,’_ asked, “What’s bothering you?”   
  
Klaus slumped a little. Diego inwardly cursed.

“Damn all this _‘emotional healing and bonding’_ bullshit. _You_ of all people to get all deep. _Hum_ ph.” Klaus muttered into the crook of his elbow, eyes turned away, whining his sorrows to Hell and heaven both.

“Oh for the love of- “ Diego threw up his hands. “-grow up you big baby; I’m trying to be supportive! You’re making it pretty damn hard, here.”

Klaus swung himself up to sitting criss-cross, groaning and moaning all the way. “Fiiiiiine, fine! I’ll beans.”

Diego peered at this brother through the exasperated fingers covering his eyes.

“Beans?”

“Yah. I’ll spill ‘em.”

Diego rolled his eyes. Klaus grinned.

They were silent for a moment or two.

“I just wonder, sometimes,” Klaus began, voice soft and wondering, fingertips tracing the grooves making up the mahogany table top he sat upon.

“About what?” Diego interrupted, and Klaus’ frown turned into something resembling a childish pout. Though, it fell away almost as quickly as it was painted on.

“Our mothers, I guess. Who they are, where they came from…” He tilted his head, face downcast, but eyes staring at nothing but the thin air of a lone chair a few feet down. One that, Diego knew better now, had to be seating Ben.

“Why they gave us up.”

The words settled a silence over the two.

There were many reasons, really. Too young, too old, already had children, didn’t have children, didn’t want children, couldn’t support a baby, couldn’t be tied down to one, too busy, not busy enough, bribery, money, coercion...The list went on, and on, and on.

The last, and most heart-aching, was the most simple.

Diego sighed, and crossed his arms as he turned to face away towards one of the large windows streaming light into the house, the small of his back resting against the tables edge. Even at twenty nine years old, Klaus thirty, counting the year in Vietnam, the question was still unfairly haunting.

Maybe they really were just, unwanted.  As simple as that.

“I dunno, Klaus.” A pause. Diego turned his head to look over at Klaus. “Why are you thinking about it now, of all times? It has been three decades.”

Klaus shrugged. “I don’t know,” he murmured, the words half of a sigh. “It just...wouldn’t leave me alone, I guess.”

That feeling, Diego understood.

“Well it s’not like the old farts around to tell us just how he got us all, not that he would even if he was living.” That got a snort out of his brother, and Diego looked up to find a satirical sort of grin, but a genuine one enough, decorating his brothers face.

“That is true,” Klaus chortled, his quivering tone sing song like is his minute joy over such a bitter fact. Frankly, everything bitter about Hargreeves was a little funny, nowadays.

“Hey, maybe we can go get Vanya to help us make some peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches, huh?” Diego suggested, using one elbow to nudge his (technically older) brother. Klaus lit up.

“Really? You’d actually eat one? None of that _‘my body is a temple!’_ garbage?”

Diego scoffed, and almost snorted himself over how excited Klaus looked. He’d never really understood what Vanya, Five and Klaus had loved about those disgusting sandwiches as kids, and understood less why they were making a comeback now; but, it would make his brother happy to enjoy something so mundane, yet so meaningful with him, and besides, maybe they actually could force grumpy old Five to admit he still liked them outside of three a.m hours.

Grabbing Klaus’ wrist to help the man jump off the table top, and inwardly laughing a little at the hot pink nail polish decorating broth fingers and toes, he grinned.

“Sure, why not?”

“YES!” Klaus shouted at the top of his lungs, and went bolting up the stairs to get Vanya and their grumpy old man brother to make disgusting sandwiches at twelve in the afternoon.

Diego followed along much slower, and allowed himself a simple few moments to think.

Maybe Alison and Pogo had a point, when they’d both declared that it was unacceptable how broken they'd all been before, without even realizing it.

Instead of giving in and lashing out at Klaus like he’d have done not even three weeks ago, he’d actually bothered to read between the lines and _listen_.

Watching Klaus drag a half dressed Five and a mildly concerned yet thoroughly amused Vanya down to the stairwell, Diego decided that, as much as his family was so, _so_ fucked up…

They were more than worth spending time to repair.


End file.
